


Sugar and Spice

by papyrocrat



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-08
Updated: 2010-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:52:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papyrocrat/pseuds/papyrocrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Absolute discretion is the province of the Dollhouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar and Spice

“Editors?Really?Someone went out and found the Dollhouse because nobody in America can read?That’s massively boring.History Channel boring.Except that filthy History of Sex show.  Did you know, in ancient Sumeria, they used to....do something you probably don't want to talk about.”The new programmer is quite the find, she’s privately exceptionally pleased with herself that she’s managed to recruit him, but he’s unusual even by Dollhouse standards.She supposes she’ll get used to him.She’s appalled at the thought that he may grow on her.

“It is not about national reading comprehension levels.Perhaps the most important service we offer is complete confidentiality.”She pauses.Adelle DeWitt does not often surrender to irresistible temptation.Dominic, when he had first started and was still under the impression he could mutter things under his breath, had made a crack about staying off of some unspecified junk.His booming voice echoes in her ears for the moment, as she considers biting back her next statement, but “irresistible” is a word that means just that.“And it is for a worldwide release, so do focus.”She’s rewarded when his childish eyes go wide.“The publisher requires our extraordinary discretion in order to avoid, erm, rotters, which would apparently be terrible for book sales.”

“Spoilers,” he corrects reverently.“Leaks.Depravity perpetrated by ravenous vultures, with no appreciation for the fine craft of suspense!Also, most of them are lies.”She arches her eyebrows.Her new threader proves to have been an excellent investment, because Topher quails even more easily than usual.“So I hear.”

“Use Whiskey and November.Whiskey can use the physical rest, and I’d like to see how November performs on a non-romantic engagement.”

“Still.They’re going to be sitting around with little red pens all day?Can I at least spice it up with a little sexy librarian action?”

“You may make them with as much sugar and spice as you like, as long as we give our clients what they need, and what they need are two competent, discreet editors.You must learn to stop asking about irrelevant details.I give you parameters, you create a personality.Little further instruction should be necessary.”

She wonders if he’s even heard the chastisement, or just the treat promised.“Awesome!Two Oxford-educated copyeditors, onion rings on the side, coming right up.Mmmmm.Onion rings.Can we order in tonight?”

She smiles a little.It’s the closest she’ll come to outwardly sharing his excitement.“Cambridge is always to be preferred, Topher.But I’m sure you’ll do your best.”

*

Erin opens her eyes.“Thank you for the treatment, Dr…was it Brink?”He nods and smiles, and gracelessly sweeps his arms towards the door.“I appreciate your professionalism, Doctor, I’d hate to be late on my first day.”Both his face and his Tron t-shirt belie the likelihood that nobody has ever appreciated his professionalism before, but Erin gives credit where it’s due, he’s right on schedule and she’s feeling wonderful, and the boy is probably doing his best.

She’s always a little nervous on her first day.It’s almost a comfort to walk into the office, which has been thoughtfully lined with bookshelves – encyclopedias and thesauri and shelves of myth and lore.Before she even takes in the two large mahogany desks sitting by the window and facing each other, a dark-haired woman jumps up from the desk to the left of the door and introduces herself in a bright rush of cheer.

“Hi, Erin, I’m Louisa.But please, call me Lou.”People who are so very at ease make Erin slightly flustered, as if there has to be a certain amount of social discomfort in any room and her task is to make up for the balance.She’s even more distracted when Lou pauses in her welcome to give a genuine smile that manages to turn down the sun.

*

They work around each other with a strange but pleasant dynamic.They’re people who are accustomed to living in their own heads, and so the constant buzz of scratches, rustling, and tapping make a comfortable atmosphere.

The glances she can’t stop herself from giving Erin are less comfortable, but more pleasant.

*

Few people are as smart as she is, and she’s only just now learning the joys of sharing an argument with someone on her own level, with the (completely intellectual) desire to impress tugging behind her eyes.

“Even after all these years, I find the philosophy behind the whole House Elf thing to be unclear.I mean, are we supposed to read them as tiny slaves?That’s not very satisfying unless it ends in massive Elf Liberation.”

“Well, they still have their own subjective life experiences.Maybe it’s presumptive of us to decide for them that a life spent in caretaking is a choice that couldn’t possibly be freely made.”

“But do they really have any other options?I mean, their marketable skills and language ability are so incredibly low, and it seems they’re kept that way on purpose.”

“That doesn’t make their quality of life any less, though.They strive to excel at their jobs, especially when they have the opportunity to form a community, and they form meaningful bonds with their employers.”

“Yeah, bonds that are ripe for abuse!” 

“That just means there needs to be an enforceable regulatory system, though, not that their labor is intrinsically wrong.”Erin shakes her head gently at the ridiculous argument, then gathers her courage. “Maybe we could continue this over dinner?”

There’s no time for tension to swell.Lou smiles her brightest acquiescence.

*

November picks up her tray.The people in the kitchen are nice, and so she smiles at them.She goes out to the tables and looks around for someone to sit with.She likes to have dinner with friends.

Whiskey is sitting all by herself, so November goes to her table and asks to sit down. 

Whiskey smiles and nods.“I like to share my table.”She looks down and takes a bite of her lettuce.When she looks up, she smiles again.Whiskey is beautiful.

“I’m going to yoga after dinner,” November tells her.“Do you like yoga?”

“Yes.It’s relaxing.Stretching and exercising helps us be our best.”

“Will you come tonight?” November asks.She hopes Whiskey will come to yoga.Classes are better when friends are there.

Whiskey nods, and then they both smile.

*

“I know we’re supposed to be afraid of the Inferi.But I’d be a little more afraid of becoming one, you know?”

It’s never particularly easy to concentrate in the room with Lou and her lovely smile and her loud typing and nervous fidgeting, but now she’s on a mission to explore every nuance of the series.Normally Erin would be annoyed at the distraction, but distraction has set up camp between their desks anyway, and Erin has learned to pick her battles.

“But in this universe, there’s a soul which is completely gone from the Inferius body.So whatever happens to it wouldn’t actually be happening to you.”

“Yes, but it would still be your body.Used to do awful things, maybe to people you cared about!”

 _Define “awful things,”_ Erin thinks, and blushes before she can stop herself.They don’t have this kind of sunlight in her Boston office.It must be getting to her.“In which event, they’d be a lot more worried about the awful thing than the body used to deliver the blow.”

“But still, anyone who would want to control an Inferius is pretty much a Big Bad, or at least an aspiring Big Bad, if they can do that kind of Dark Magic.”As she’s talking, Lou twists up her thick curls and anchors them to her head with a pen.Erin directs her answer to the curve of her tastefully tanned neck.

“You’re presupposing that there is such a tool as Dark Magic, or if it’s just the name given to the concept of the use of magic with specific evil intent behind it.”

Lou seems quite sure that Kant and Mill had some definitive indeed ideas about Dark Magic, and Erin was done for the day anyway.Well, mostly done, and Lou is gesturing like she’s dancing, and philosophy has always been a terrible weak spot for her.

*

Topher tosses his Silly Putty from left to right, squeezing it into hills and valleys of two and three between throws.He’s still getting used to the way this is his own lab, and he doesn’t have to choke back his inner monologue with twitches and tapping and fake, tuneless song anymore.He cracks open a bag of Smartfood (cheese and popcorn!Whoever came up with this was brilliant.And he should know.They should call it _GeniusFood_ ) and relaxes as he watches the yogadroids file across the floor towards their beds.

Whiskey and November jump into the same pod from opposite ends, and giggle as they make each other bounce.Whiskey stumbles and November catches her, then kisses her ear.“Holy…crap!That shouldn’t happen!That can’t happen.They got wiped!I wiped them!And….that….wasn’t even in there to wipe!Was that even in there to wipe?”

Okay, so the getting-used-to process hasn’t been that hard.

Below, the assistants shrug indulgently and let the pods close anyway.

He calls up to Adelle’s office.If he’s still at work and not gaming relentlessly in one of the less dangerous areas of his suite, she’s definitely still looming stylishly around her office.“Judith!Heyyyy, Judith.I, um. Adelle?”

He finds Judith slightly unsettling.

Adelle answers.“Topher, is there a problem?”How’d she know it was him?Well, at least Judith finds him distinctive.It’s probably not a mark of favor in her book, though.

He shoves a fistful of popcorn into his mouth to cover his sudden silence.Then he remembers she can’t see him eating.“Mmmmrpgh.”Ease into it, Brink. “Just, you know, checking in on the, uh, publishing job.Client….happy?”

The lights in the pods make detailed shadows.Whiskey and November are holding hands.Aaaaah!It’s too cute!Is he about to turn himself in for excessive cuteness?Can he cop a plea to misdemeanor adorability?What do they do, when Actives start doing stuff outside of engagements?What if November and Whiskey get sent to the Attic? _What if she won’t let him do sexy librarian anymore?_ A world without Whiskey and November in plastic framed glasses would be a bleaker, poorer place.He can’t live with causing that kind of damage.He would die of guilt.Which, you wouldn’t think is possible, but it is.Shit.

“The client is exceptionally pleased with their pace and quality of work.Why do you ask?Do you need to keep one of them for a diagnostic tomorrow?It’s fairly routine with repeat imprints.”

A diagnostic.He hadn’t thought to run a diagnostic on either Doll.“Uh, unnecessary, but yeah, sure.As you wish, Defender of the Hotdog Stand.One of them can just get stuck in traffic before work tomorrow.”

“That sounds acceptable.Is there anything else, Topher?”

Whiskey curls up on her side, face towards November.Their hands never part.Oh, there’s something else.

He can’t turn them all in, but she’s heard him pause again.“My shoe pinches!My, uh, left shoe!That’s the last time I buy shoddy Converse knockoffs.Sorry.That’s all about the engagement.Thanks, Adelle.Sweet dreams!”

Smooth, Boy Genius.He’s just wished his uptight boss, his boss at a megacorporation which has probably killed people for looking at it wrong, _sweet dreams_.To protect a couple of Sapphic zombies and their sexy, sexy glasses from a fate that would in all likelihood involve a lollipop, a treatment, and some quality swimsuit time.Behold Topher Brink, world’s youngest recorded _suicidally insane_ mad scientist.

*

Lou is great at her job, but more importantly, she loves her job.Stories of possibility, no matter how vastly misused, never fail to engage her sense of wonder.

“Wouldn’t it be great if magic were real?” she blurts out one day when she’s about to book her ticket back to New York.She can’t not be making some kind of contact, at least intellectual, with Erin so very close, and pretty girls don’t break a perfectly good comfortable silence with pirates versus ninjas (though clearly, ninjas all the way, pirates are so obvious and they rely entirely too much on guns).

Erin stops her reach (her arm falls, and the tantalizing strip of smooth lower back retreats under the baby-blue blouse) for the early-edition Campbell that’s sat untouched on the shelf over Lou’s desk, and only looks a little surprised at the interruption.She leans her head to the left (irresistibly) and considers.“I don’t know that I’d want to live in a world with mind control and Love Potions so readily available.”

“Don’t you already?”Erin looks startled, and Lou hurries to cover her sharpness.“There’s advertising, roofies.Hypnotism.Demonic possession,” she finishes solemnly, and they both laugh.

“It’s the ease of use that would scare me, I think.You’d never be able to trust that your actions and feelings were your own.You’d always be two seconds away from something you didn’t want to do.”

“Maybe that’s the idea.The things you do choose to do, the things you mean with your whole heart, they’re precious.”She stands up too, leans her hips against her desk drawer.

Oh, hell.

Erin is standing still but tense, one hand lightly gracing their tabbed-up copy of Roget’s Thesaurus.She knows exactly what Lou means, and Lou can tell because Erin pulls off her glasses, folds them sharply, and places them down on the shelf.She keeps her eyes on Lou as she silently walks over until she’s standing between Lou and the bookshelves.

She repeats her performance with Lou’s glasses, and it’s completely superfluous, strike for succinctness, and still deeply sexy when Erin whispers darkly, “I mean this.”Erin leans in first, and Lou isn’t too caught off guard to catch her with lips curved and parted.The relentless L.A. sun starts to set, but neither of them reaches for the lamp.

*

At the end of the day, she walks towards the doctor’s office, and waves nervously at Lou, who’s for some reason in her pajamas.Lou waves back, and then pulls her companion towards her by the elbow.He’s big and a little frightening, but Lou trusts him enough to smile up confidently.“Whiskey is beautiful,” Lou tells the man confidently.She wonders if Lou has a drinking problem.She doesn’t let herself wonder if Lou has a boyfriend, though he’s fair and handsome and looks at ease in his pajamas in front of Lou.

Then Lou smiles, and Erin forgets everything else.

*

Adelle DeWitt is a woman who can appreciate the satisfaction of a job well done, and today she has given a large number of very wealthy clients exactly what they need.It’s a hard day’s night, and she plans to celebrate accordingly.She pours herself her finest single malt.She kicks off her Manolos one at a time and reclines on the corner of the couch, her back against its arm, and smoothly crosses her legs along its side.

She opens up the least descript of manila folders, the first in the six-inch deep stack on her table, and begins to indulge.

_Postscript:In case you couldn’t tell the girls apart, Erin go Bragh and Arran are types of whiskies; Louisa May Alcott was born on November 29, 1832._

__


End file.
